


Shelter

by Statementends (Blueberryshortcake)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Jon gives up on being human, Jon has a lot of unresolved feelings about things, Lesbian & Ace alliance, Monster Roommates, a friendship blossoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 08:43:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20079388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberryshortcake/pseuds/Statementends
Summary: Jon puts his hand on the doorknob. Helen gets a roommate.It's simple. Jon could use simple right now.





	Shelter

He put his hand on the handle of the door. The door that had been a permanent fixture in the Archives since he had woken up. 

He remembered Michael. The Distortion. A promise for a kind death. At least in comparison to the Stranger. 

It didn’t feel like very long ago, and yet so much had happened. So much had changed. Would Michael be able to devour him now? Probably not. 

Jon opened the door. Helen stood there, her odd broken smile greeted him.

“It is polite to knock,” She pointed out.

He shuddered. Wondered if somehow she knew. She didn’t. 

“Sorry,” He apologised. His senses buzzed. A twisting maze that couldn’t--shouldn’t be known laid out before his feet. 

“Why are you here Archivist?” Helen asked. 

“Jon.”

“Hm?” 

“I don’t call you the Distortion, do I?”

“Names,” Helen shrugged. “Are they important to you still?” 

“What if I called you Michael?” 

Helen frowned. “I don’t think I’d like that. Very well, Jon. What can I do for you? You only visit when you’re sad.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Are you sad, Jon?” 

“I’m tired,” He answered.

“Yes, you’re that an awful lot too.” 

“Not--well, yes physically but… I’m tired of being everyone’s pawn. Elias, Annabelle Cane, Peter Lukas, even Martin--” He cut himself off. It hurt to say. Like a self inflicted wound. “I. I’m... hungry.” 

Helen’s head twisted at an odd angle in curiosity. “Are you?” 

“Yes. Very. Do you… want to go out to … dinner? Uh. As colleagues … I mean.” Jon stuttered. Maybe he should feel bad using such harmless metaphors for the pain they were about to inflict on living breathing people. He didn’t.

Helen’s smile could shatter glass, but that wasn’t unusual. 

-

The need was easy to keep up with like this. It reminded him of his childhood. The endless books. The need for a brand new story that was nothing like the last. The Spiral was never the same thing twice. Helen hunted in new and mind dizzying ways. People wandered her corridors. Shattered from sleep deprivation. From unsolvable riddles. From shapes that shouldn’t exist and patterns that weren’t patterns. Colourful fractals, and madness. 

It was beautiful. He could appreciate it now.

He didn’t lose his empathy. He felt the terror of every single person she lured through her threshold. Lived through it endlessly and he couldn’t get enough. Sometimes they would have other stories to share, still fresh to their maze. Helen liked hunting for Statement Givers. The ones that had already been marked. When she found Martin’s first victim she had been particularly pleased. 

“Like home, Archivist.” 

He wished he could be more surprised. That even Martin Blackwood could be twisted and corrupted. He just felt sad, recognising his… friend in an unrecognisable story.

“Do you miss them Archivist?” Helen asked. She listened sometimes, especially when she was pleased with her catch of the day. 

Jon watched the man run in the opposite direction. Running from the monsters.

“Yes,” He admitted. “They didn’t really like me much though. I… I don’t know. It never mattered before, being liked. I guess it was because I really did care about them, but they hated me, for what I did to them. So this is better. I’m freeing them. No more need to worry about the monster. He’s gone away. Proving everyone right. Never should have trusted him.”

“They never did trust you.” Helen pointed out.

“Oh. Right.”

“I trust you.” She offered.

“You’re the embodiment of lies.” 

Her laughter hurt his ears. 

“I trust you too.” He added.

She laughed louder. 

-

They would go out. Do people things. Get ice cream by a pier somewhere in Canada. Helen would dance in Russia. Jon would get lost in a library in Iran. They would have chips in London. See a movie. They didn’t go to London too often anymore. They were looking for him after all. Elias Knew as soon as they left the corridors. The Archives were searching for him, everyone in their own way.

If it was because they wanted to see him he wondered if he’d go back, but really it was because of usefulness or fear. Emotions he didn’t want to deal with anymore. Couldn’t they just be pleased he was away and wouldn’t be enacting the ritual anytime soon--even when he burned with curiosity wondering about it. Wondering if he could…

He was dipping his feet in the ocean. Helen was beside him fishing with nothing but some string tied to a stick. She had caught eight fish already and thrown all of them back.

“Is there--” he stopped. Started again. “I was wondering if there’s anyone you missed.” Jon said making it a statement instead of a question. 

Helen splashed her feet in the water. 

“I never asked. I … probably should have.” 

“No one that matters now, Jon.” She answered. “Not to who I am. In the archives… I liked Melanie. She was fun… until she wasn’t.”

Jon didn’t press, the question buzzing unpleasantly on his tongue.

Helen smiled, knowing what he wondered. “When you fixed her leg, she started … putting her mind in order. Seeing me for what I am. I took it a lot better than you did. Helen never had time for people that didn’t accept her. Her father didn’t believe in Lesbians. She didn’t believe in her father. I have fonder feelings towards Melanie though, despite her feelings towards me… us.” 

Helen stood. Stretched out letting the impromptu fishing pole fall to one side. “Shall we go home, Jon?”

When had a hellscape of endless nonsensical corridors become home he wondered. When it had become his shelter he supposed.

“Yes,” He stood, shaking the water off his feet. “Let’s go home.” 

-

Sometimes he remembered just how old the Distortion was. Helen was it’s primary… personality? Host? A part of it… is it, but also not sometimes. It was probably best not to think about it too much. Sometimes she would talk about old victims during ancient times that she had never lived in. Sometimes she laughed with Michael’s laugh and spoke with Michael’s speech patterns, and called him Archivist. 

She was interesting and there was always more to Know. 

He wondered if she… the part of her that was the Distortion was as fascinated with him as he was of it. They were opposite ends of the spectrum. Knowing and Lies. Curiosity and deceit. But they fed each other. Jon trying to solve tangled puzzles. Helen trying to confound an all knowing mind. A healthy challenge. A comfortable balance. 

It was October. There wasn’t much of 2018 left. He wondered if he’d make it. 

-

“What are we, Jon?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Our relationship status.” 

Jon blinked. He went and looked over her shoulders. On his phone he had lost three months ago she was slowly updating her profile on Facebook. He could see the edges of her newest posts had fractals, cat memes, and something about it being wine o’clock. 

“Ah… well… we’re friends.” He admitted. 

Helen nodded. Dutifully added him. He had forgotten he even had a profile. Sasha maybe had set it up… or Tim? Such an unimportant thing… he wished he remembered. The picture of him looked strangely young although it was only taken four years ago. Less gray. A serious look, but not so tired. He wasn’t tired much anymore though. Now that he was… taking care of himself. 

She set their relationship to “It’s complicated.” 

Jon laughed. 


End file.
